


River(gay)ale

by izzbelle



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Gang, Greasemonkey, I wish I was Kevin Keller, Joavin, Kevin Keller deserves better but damn Joaquin is fine, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Riverdale, Riverdale is my life, Twilight Drive-In, serpents, tatoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-21 18:39:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11950281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzbelle/pseuds/izzbelle
Summary: Personally, I am sick of Joaquin x Kevin authors being shy with the relationship. Fumbling hands and blushing virgin bullshit. I think we both know Joaquin would give the good little sheriff’s boy the pounding of his life.  Shove him up against a few surfaces. Enjoy my depraved children. Two fucks. Two different view points.Song: Go Fuck Yourself by Two Feet, Show Me Love Skrillex Remix





	1. Joaquin

Joaquin’s spent the majority of his life taking all sorts of shit from the Serpents to get where he is. Practically the poster boy for the ‘started from the bottom’ philosophy. So when he sees Preppy getting all high and mighty, shoulders thrown back and broad chest stretching the buttons of his shirt tight, telling the crew to shut the fuck up, the elated rush of heat to his abdomen is all he needs to decide it’s about time he took a little break while on duty. 

This break was 50 shades of slacks, polo shirts and boat shoes, so not is usual pick up, but god did the kid have a look. Six foot of tall, well-muscled, high cheekboned sex. He managed to catch his eye before winking, watching as the boy retreated with a startled blink. The people sat around Joaquin began to stir, hooting at some haughty comment the high-heeled bitch sitting next to Preppy shouted after a minute. He waited for the noise to quiet, smiling to himself when instead the obnoxiously loud reactions of the gang kept rising in volume. Preppy swung his legs out from under the car and stalked angrily towards the food stand, glaring at the Southsides. Bingo. 

Murmuring something about a bathroom break, Joaquin ignored the round of catcalls that erupted from behind him and raised his head, starting to trot to catch up with the kid. As he approached him from behind, he saw the boy casting furtive glances back to a couple hooking up in the nearest car to the food cart, his shoulders stiffening further with every head turn. “Figures,” Preppy huffed, shifting on his feet unhappily at something the hot dog man says to him. Joaquin crowded up into the space behind the taller man and let a crooked grin crawl onto face as the unexpected company startled him, making him almost drop armfuls full of food. Narrowing his gaze, he felt his eyes rake over the guy’s body involuntarily, and the brown haired boys own track the movement. “Not so tough without your beard, huh?” He said, running his hand through his slicked back hair. The other boy’s eyes are like saucers, surprised and almost unwillingly involved in Joaquin’s interest. Joaquin leaned into his space, having to grip his shoulder to get at the right height, letting his lips just brush the other boy’s ear. “You looked awful lonely on that car with those girls, Preppy,” Joaquin’s mouth slipped into a smirk, “And I can’t help but notice I can fix that for ya,” 

Preppy took a step back, eyes widened until he seemingly snapped out of whatever state he was in. Shrugging, he tilted his head to the side, and as if suddenly deciding something, letting an cautious smile soften the straight line of his jaw, “Yeah you know what? Now that you mentioned it, I wasn’t really liking the movie anyway,” A laugh punches out of Joaquin and a pleasant feeling dances along his ribs; he fucking knew this kid would be up for it. 

Preppy’s words were plenty enough reason for him to lead the taller man towards the back of the Twilight where he wastes no time in shoving him up against the chain link fence, pressing hard kisses along the line of the guy’s jaw, softening his lips when he reaches the seam of Preppy’s mouth. Popcorn and cola discarded on the ground, the kid doesn’t disappoint, parting his pretty lips with a needy gasp of air, his hands alternating from tugging on Joaquin’s hair, to fisting the lapels of his leather jacket. 

Things are barely under control, a tracing outlines of tongues and soft mouthing on necks until the bastard slips a leg between the Serpent’s thighs and presses it knowingly into his half-hard bulge, while shoving a hand up his t-shirt, ghosting fingers along his hips, stomach, ribs. Joaquin tries, he really does, but a sharp whining sound punches out of his lungs before he can catch it. He bites down on Preppy’s lip in retaliation, sucking hard on the swollen skin, noting the way his hips buck sharply, pressing his hard length into his stomach. He pulls back from the kiss to regain a healthy level of oxygen in his blood, staring at the boy he has pressed into the fence. Gelled hair mussed beyond salvation, flushed cheeks, red spit glossed lips and a ridiculously obvious erection straining at his zipper. 

Jesus fucking Christ, he can’t remember the last time he was this into some yuppie from the other side of the track. He leans back an inch and palms the front of his jeans slowly, staring at Preppy, tilting his head. “You want to help me?” He already knows the answer. The only response he gets is a strangled moan as Joaquin pushes back into his personal space, attaching his lips to Preppy’s pulse, biting and licking and sucking until he is writhing under him again. The kid decided enough is enough though and slots their hips together as Joaquin thrusts hard into the other boy, the rough friction from his jeans intoxicating. The fence crashes behind them with every desperate movement. “You want me to bend you over right here in the alley, Preppy? Want you so bad,” He groans and noses at the hair by the other boy’s ear. Preppy responds with a low noise in the back of his throat and deft fingers popping the button and unzipping his jeans fly. His warm hand wraps around Joaquin through the cotton of his boxers and squeezes. He crowds the boy’s body back into the fence, panting hard enough that the movie can’t be heard in the background as his long fingers push the band to his boxers down and start ghosting over his length. “Wow Preppy. Full of surprises,”

His fingers wrap around Joaquin and he beings to stroke in slow, purposeful motions. Cupping his balls, then up towards the head where a finger rubs along his slit lightly smearing a bead of pre-come, “Oh you have no idea,” He removes his hand, and licks a long line down his palm, before Joaquin grabs him by the collar of his jacket and pulls him in for a sloppy open-mouthed kiss, licking at the seam of his mouth demandingly, sucking on the other boy’s tongue. He grabs Preppy’s hand, and running wet kisses up his palm he places two fingers in his mouth, sucking. Hard. He lets out an unabashed noise, slipping his hands back into Joaquin’s open pants. Joaquin’s hips stutter again as Preppy lets him fuck into his hand, keeping a tight grip. Heat is pooling in his stomach and he could feel his thrusts becoming uneven,“Ay mi maldito dios sí, justo así bebé. Just like that baby,” His strokes become faster every time he makes it down his cock like he knows and Preppy breaks the kiss suddenly, to lean down and suck a mark just below Joaquin’s jawline. With the pressure of the bite, his cock gives a twitch, and fuck it if Joaquin was unbelievably gone on cause, damn, the fucker was possessive. With a sex-fogged awareness, he realized Preppy is really going for it, rutting against Joaquin’s thigh. He smiles above Preppy who is making more marks on his neck, and takes a hand out of his thick hair, reaching to cup the other boy's erection. Preppy stills beneath him, taking a shuttering breath in. Joaquin smiles to himself as he teases him, running fingers feather light against the zipper. 

“F-fuck you,” Preppy wiggles his hips and undid his pants, shoving them just so his erection slips out, hissing at the press of air. Joaquin really shouldn't have been surprised. Kid had big hands. He wraps a hand around his length and Joaquin wastes no time pulling him back in, lips crashing and teeth clacking, pulling his own boxers down to grab both their cocks. And the pressure is building, building, building as Preppy bangs his head back on the fence, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck, fuck, I’m going to-“ He's interrupted by a noise Joaquin didn’t think he could make, a low gravelly keen as his balls tighten and he's pulsing, covering their hands in come, Preppy right behind him. Joaquin sags against the boy leaning on the fence, his knees weak and a soft buzzing in his ears. After a few moments of lazy kisses, the other boy grabs a napkin from his back pocket and cleans their hands. 

Preppy smiled lightly, “I gotta go.” He tried to move away but Joaquin pushed him lightly back in to the fence and kissed him once, twice, three times, hard. Preppy smiled broader this time, teeth whiter than Joaquin remembered. “Okay, okay, this time I really need to go,”

“I’m Joaquin by the way,” 

“Give me your phone,” Not a surprise Preppy was demanding, really. Joaquin watched as he typed his number in and gave it back. “This is my number,” He pushed the phone into Joaquin’s chest, “Use it.”

“Kevin Keller.” His eyes widened and his chest felt a little tighter, “As-As in, as in, Sheriff Keller?” Of course this shit happened to Joaquin. Fucking figured. He started doing up his fly.

Kevin nodded his head once and stood a little taller, “Is that a problem?” Joaquin looked up sharply and his mind did a little dance as he debated whether or not to tell Kevin about his…loyalties. He shook his head and shuffled, before dipping his head down to the sleeve he had pulled up over his forearm,

“Is this a problem?” The Southside Serpent sigil was inked starkly against the pale skin of the inside of his arm, a two-headed snake in a loop. Preppy frowned at the mark as if debating something before his shoulders shrugged slightly. 

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Joaquin felt a crooked smile climb onto his mouth and grabbed Kevin by the coat again to crash their lips together in a chaste goodbye. With that, he pushed away from the fence and starting walking back to the group.

“See you later, Preppy.” 

And yes, he got a murder glare for the shit-eating grin he flashed at the bitch with the Louboutins as he climbed onto his bike. But did he care? No.


	2. Kevin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t really like how I characterized Joaquin last time but shit happens. He’s a hard character because of how little the writers give to us to work with. Does he actually like Kevin? Is he gay? Bisexual? We’ll find out in the 3rd instalment of River(gay)le. This is the 2nd: Kev’s viewpoint. 
> 
> Song: Calm Down by G-Eazy, Often by the Weekend

Either Kevin was batshit crazy or had a death wish. By the time Joaquin grabbed the cuff of his sleeve and hustled him into the alley he was considering asking if he could call his dad to say goodbye before getting shanked. Sure, he had propositioned him in front of the food cart, but he didn’t really trust the motives of a Serpent he basically told to shut up minutes ago. When he had turned around to shush the Southsiders, Veronica at his back, all was fine. But the greaser was right, he wasn’t so tough without his beard and now there was a 50% chance of stabbage in a dirty alleyway. 

And god wasn’t it ironic; if the kid leading him to the back was being truthful about his intentions, he was totally endgame material. Scuffed black leather jacket, matching ripped jeans, thick black hair, and bright, calculating eyes. 20 year old bad boy meets Hispanic wet dream. His back hit a chain link wall as he was shoved against a metal fence. He opened his mouth, heart beating in his throat, but ready to bite the bullet and ask what was happening. But Joaquin had other ideas, putting his hand over Kevin’s mouth and leaning in real close. Okay, no knife. He removed his palm and replaced it with his lips. And that is how Kevin ended up doing exactly what his dad told him not to. 

He hadn’t gotten Joaquin’s number himself and he was regretting it. He thought the gang member would have a pair for God sakes, not fuck off tail tucked because his last name was Keller. A voice in the back of Kevin’s head told him the guy must have been in some pretty heavy Serpent circles if he knew the Sheriff by last name. Maybe he knew it first hand from the other side of an interrogation table. He didn’t even know how old Joaquin was. He shook his head in a quick succession, rubbing his temples at the internal deliberation. It was a pretty simple situation. Joaquin was gorgeous, from the wrong side of town, mysterious and he had swept Kevin up in this current of rough sex and danger and promises of more to come. They hadn’t come. Better to shove those thoughts under the rug along the hope of seeing the man again. The hickys were faded.

So the next week went by, Ronnie constantly bugging him about the lack of sarcastic commentary and general blatantly truthful tip offs. He just rolled his eyes at her,

“Please don’t go Opera on me. I’m just worried about the break in, no biggie. Promise.”

15 days later and a whole lot of HBO later, Kevin’s hawk-like vigil over his phone has been broken. So when the text comes, he doesn’t bother to look until he realizes that it is the ringtone for unknown numbers. 

It’s Joaquin. I hope you didn’t give me the wrong number Preppy. Where are you? 

He paused before typing, 

Sorry who is this? I’m at my house.

Funny Preppy. Your dad home?

No? 

He is halfway through a line of words telling Joaquin his house is probably not the best place to meet when-

Good. Better come let me in then before the neighbours think I’m robbing you. 

Kevin thinks he’s reading the text wrong. Holy shit. How does Joaquin know where he lives? His address is listed in a few Yellow Page books, because of Sheriff Keller, but he doubts Joaquin went digging through one of those. He shakes his head in disbelief, a goofy smile ghosting over his face and a warm feeling snaking through his veins, pulsing at his wrists and making his chest feel light. He swings off his bed and scales the stairs, undoing the latch and swinging the door open. Joaquin is shuffling his feet on their doormat, looking to both sides before at Kevin, an unhurried, suggestive grin spreading over his face like molasses. “What took you so long? The old lady next door was looking at me like I had a crowbar,” Joaquin laughs out. 

Kevin just stares at the guy on his doorstep, eyes wide and speechless for the second time in front of the other boy. His black hair was more mussed than the night at Twilight and he wore a form fitting jacket on, with an embroidered snake on the sleeve, almost unnoticeable. Almost. Joaquin’s smile died a little, the view of his impossibly white teeth slipping away, “You going to invite me in, Preppy?” 

I’m dreaming. I’m fucking dreaming. “What the fuck are you?” Without waiting for a reply he drags Joaquin into his house, closing the door by shoving Joaquin into it, fully appreciating the little noise he makes when his back slams into the wood. Kevin grabs the labels of his stupidly tight leather jacket and crashes their lips together, surprised at his own frenzied movements. Joaquin tears his lips from Kevin’s, eyes rolling back when Kevin keeps a firm grasp of his bottom lip with his teeth, biting down slightly. When Kevin lets him go, Joaquin looks the boy up and down with a look torn between hunger and anger. “What?” Joaquin looks like he’s calculating something and without knowing what happens next, Kevin finds himself flipped and hands pinned above his head. 

“Better,” Joaquin smiles and latches his teeth to the chord running from Kevin’s shoulder to his Adam’s apple. His mouth isn’t patient, and it is even more desperate than at the Twilight. Every inch he moves up Kevin’s neck, he bites down hard, sucking on the spot he marks and repeating. He has a purpose and if it is to work Kevin up, he succeeded because after a few minutes he was more than half-mast, rutting in jerky movements against the other boy’s stomach. It isn’t long before Kevin decided he wants to explore Joaquin’s body, but with his hands over his head and Joaquin’s grip is scarily strong, the only thing he can do is make small keening noises, just short of begging to be let go. Joaquin doesn’t pay any attention to him though, apparently having over ideas as he keeps one hand on his wrists and travels the other down to push the hem of his wool sweater up and over his head, still keeping his hands in an iron grip and tongue twisting wickedly in Kevin’s mouth. 

Kevin pulls away, breath short, to look at Joaquin whose lips are swollen and eyes hooded over. He was coming undone. See, Kevin knew he wasn’t into the sub/dom kind of BDSM shit he found on porn websites occasionally, but fuck he would be lying if he said Joaquin’s possessive alpha male whatever it was didn’t drive him crazy. It was unbearably hot to know this brash criminal was loosing it over him, the Sheriff’s kid squirming under him. Joaquin’s fingers danced over the taught skin of Kev’s stomach and he ran a flat palm against the planes of his chest before stopping to look at the taller boy’s flushed face and straining arms. “I’ve been thinking about you Preppy. What I was going to do to you,” He pauses and smiles lazily, “What do you want me to do to you Preppy? What do you want?”

Kevin leans forward as much as he can into Joaquin’s space and bites down on his ear, “Bedroom. Now.” Joaquin’s half tilted mouth grows into something darker than a simple smile. He uses the hand on Kevin’s chest to push him back into the door, fingers ghosting over his nipples, rubbing in slow burning circles before pinching and rolling. 

“Ask me again, Preppy. Use your manners,” Kevin’s dick twitches in his sweatpants and his hips jerk forward violently. The noise that climbs out of his throat is more like a shout than he cares to admit. He grits his teeth and pushes against Joaquin, their bodies two hard lines against each other.

“My name is Kevin,” Joaquin grins wolfishly again and Kevin feels the sharp rush of heat from his chest to his toes again, pressing his lips in a hard line to keep from yelling out.

“Wrong answer Preppy.” Joaquin doesn’t try to get him to answer again. He pushes back and rips his jacket and t-shirt off. “Where’s the bedroom,”

“If I’d known you were such a dick I would have let the lady next door have you, crowbar or not,” 

“You let me in because I’m a dick,” 

“Shuttup.” 

With that he grabbed Joaquin’s wrist and dragged him to the bedroom. Kevin was wondering if he should ask Joaquin what his limits were. If he had any weird no zones like Moose or half the closet cases in Riverdale High. But Kevin saw Joaquin’s practiced confidence in his motions as he pushed the taller man into bed and the thought dissipated. Joaquin was far past a repressed teenager suffering PTSD from the football squad. 

Pawing at each others remaining clothes, while still attached by the lips proved difficult, but they still ended up in boxers, rutting frantically into each other, soft gasps filling the room until Joaquin finally snapped. He slipped Kevin’s length free from his boxers and crawled lower onto the bed. Kevin felt the hot puffs of air ghosting his erection from the boy below him and grabbed fistfuls of thick black hair as his fingers curled on themselves in an attempt to gain some control over himself. This all was thrown into the wind when Joaquin wrapped his lips around the head of his cock, suckling slightly before hollowing his lips and taking as much as he could and using his hand to grip the base. Kevin’s hips lurched off of the bed, and he arched his back to stop himself from choking Joaquin, a loud moan filling the air between them. Joaquin pulled off with a loud wet noise, “Preppy,” Kevin responded with a disappointed whine. “Stop playing around. Fuck my mouth,” Kevin’s complaints died in his throat and he looked up, the muscles of his stomach tensing under a thin sheen on sweat,

“You are. Going to. End me.” Joaquin’s lofty smile is wiped off of his lips as Kevin takes two more fistfuls of silky hair and leads the man’s tongue to his straining length, where he lathers wet kisses along the crown, paying attention to the sensitive stretch of skin below the head. He takes him into his mouth again, this time Kevin not holding back, using his leverage to thrust down Joaquin’s throat. The only sign this had any effect on the gang member was his hands fisted into the sheets, the thick cords of his biceps straining, tanned skin stark against the white sheets as he grinded steadily into the mattress. Joaquin’s hands wandered from his stomach to his thighs to his balls, eventually finding their way to his ass, where he squeezed and kneaded until slipping a finger to rub purposefully over his hole. Kevin’s head hits the backboard with a crack. He sits up and pulls Joaquin off with a rough tug that he can tell he loves. He stretches over the bed and reaches into his nightstand drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube and pressing it into Joaquin’s ridiculously toned chest like he had with his phone two weeks ago. 

“You’re the type Preppy,” as he glanced down at the advertisement, for strawberry flavoured slick, grinning. He preps Kevin with quick, clever fingers and in record time he is rubbing over his prostate mercilessly, watching him squirm, length red and precome beading against his stomach, ordering him to keep his hands off of his dick. When he presses into Kevin, this isn’t the slow love making people talk about; it’s the sharp slap of skin and the incessant pounding of his prostate. And his ass is going to hurt for weeks because Joaquin is hunched over him, head buried in Kevin’s neck and snapping his hips roughly. “Fuuuuck Preppy. So good. So tight for me.” Kevin takes Joaquin’s head in his hands and brings his lips to his, smashing them together tongue first, licking into his mouth and exploring every surface. Kevin isn’t sure what he is saying either, just that his mouth is moving and he is forming words. He’ll ask Joaquin later. Suddenly one of Joaquin’s hands is jacking him and the pressure is too much. The sensations are too much. He has a full mouth and a fuller ass and there is a fire starting to work itself from his stomach to his toes, curling below him. Joaquin’s hips are erratic and his thrusts become less paced, but ram into him deeper. So fucking deep. And fuck he’s going to come because the feeling he is getting higher and higher has reached an impossible point. He muffles the feeling of white heat washing over his body and blanking his mind him in a buzz, by biting down onto Joaquin’s shoulder as he pulses over his stomach. Joaquin makes the loudest noise he’s made all night, caught between a surprised moan and a cry, and pulls out of Kevin, throwing his head back and coming hot spurts onto Kevin’s stomach. 

His shoulders sag and he breathes in deeply, smiling something small and blissed out, before sighing. Joaquin crawls over to the bedside table to find a tissue to wipe them down, collapsing when they are clean, slinging his arm over Kevin’s shoulders. “Not bad, we should get together more often. I was actually going to take you to a movie, you know.”

Kevin snorts, “Of course you were. The adult theatre type or your own private collection?” Joaquin smiles with those perfect teeth of his and leans in for a kiss. 

“Mind if I crash for a bit?” He thinks he already has an answer and he tugs Kevin closer, wrapping an arm around his torso and shuffling into the bed more comfortably, “I like your mattress,”

“I knew you only liked me for my bed,” Joaquin again avoids speaking, instead pressing smile-covered lips into Kevin’s collarbone until a ringing from his phone disturbs them. He frowns at the screen, looking over his shoulder at him. "Sorry Kev, I gotta run." Hours after he has left, Kevin tries to convince himself it's okay that his newly found fuck buddy has to fun off after sex to a life full of probable crime. It is worryingly easy. 


End file.
